


Maxime

by dreamofroses



Category: 18th & 19th Century CE RPF, 18th Century CE RPF, French Revolution RPF
Genre: F/M, French Revolution, Gen, Modern France, Multi, Paris - Freeform, Time Travel, Time Travel Culture Shock, Very Soft Sci-Fi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-07-25 09:32:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7527502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamofroses/pseuds/dreamofroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It might have been a normal day for Alexis Barden, a normal year, a normal life, except Maximilien de Robespierre appeared in her Paris apartment during breakfast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This story contains copious amount of French--mediocre French written by an American who has only been studying the language for seven years. It may be frustrating to read and it likely does not reflect the characters' speech patterns at all. The French has, of course, all been translated into English so French comprehension is not required. I have been struggling to find a way to distinguish between French and English in the story. Suggestions for the resolution of this struggle are welcome. Suggestions in general are welcome.

Alexis had always known that the immense store of history facts in her brain would be useful to her one day. Actually, considering her job at the Palais Galliera, it had already been useful. She simply hadn’t expected it to be useful to her today and certainly not for the purpose of determining the identity of a man who claimed to be someone more than two hundred years dead, a man who had spontaneously appeared at her table not fifteen minutes before. Meanwhile, Chloé, Alexis’s friend who had walked in on the bizarre scene, stood mutely by, unsure of what to make of the situation and waiting for Alexis’s reaction to inform her own.

As soon as the man had said his name, Alexis began comparing his appearance to that of the figure he claimed to be. He was a small man by the standards of the present but he would have been about average in height and build for the period in question. His skin was fair and marked with pocks. Acne scars or smallpox scars? He had heart-shaped face, largish heavy-lidded green eyes, and a roman nose. His lips were a little thin. So far, so good.

His clothing appeared period to her eye and, working for a fashion museum, Alexis did not consider hers an untrained eye. Still, she ran through a mental checklist to make sure she was not getting ahead of herself. The fabrics and colors of his clothing indicated a period between 1770 and 1820. The powdered wig and knee breeches narrowed that to the period between 1770 and 1795. The cutaway coat came from between 1780 and 1795. The short waistcoat could not have been from before 1785. The decade of 1785 to 1795 was a perfect fit for the identity the man had claimed.

It still was not likely that the man was who he said he was. After all, teleportation (no matter how unlikely in and of itself) was more likely than teleportation coupled with time travel and Alexis liked to think that Occam’s razor was a fairly sound theory. However, he was a damned good imposter, if that was what he was, and Alexis had to give him credit for that. She therefore held out her hand and said, “Je suis ravie de faire votre connaissance, Monsieur de Robespierre.” _I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Monsieur de Robespierre_.

Robespierre (or the imposter thereof) hesitated a moment before taking the offered hand as Alexis continued, “Je m’appelle Alexis Barden.” _My name is Alexis Barden._

Barely waiting for Robespierre to make the appropriate responses, Chloé interrupted the conversation. “Alexis, may I speak with you?”

Alexis looked sharply over at her friend. Although her expression may have conveyed irritation, she was mostly surprised both at the interruption and the English. She looked back at Robespierre and then back at her friend.

“Un moment,” she told Robespierre and then followed Chloé to the kitchen which, being simply another corner of the open space that made up the apartment, excluding the bedroom and bathroom (which was combined toilet and shower to conserve space), was not enough on its own to protect their conversation. Chloé, therefore, continued in English.

“Do you seriously believe that’s, that’s,” she searched for a way to describe Robespierre without alerting him to the fact that they were talking about him—a lost cause in Alexis’s opinion but a valiant attempt—and somehow managed to settle on, “the Incorruptible?”

“To be honest, no,” Alexis replied. “Time travel is far less plausible than teleportation. Not to mention, while I am not an expert in physics in any way, I believe that, theoretically, at least, travelling back in time is supposed to be even less possible than travelling to the future.”

“But this _is_ travel to the future!”

Alexis let out a very small sigh and explained. “If this is…the Incorruptible, then think about it. If he came at some point during his life and got stuck here, we wouldn’t have an ‘Incorruptible’ in the first place, or we’d have stories about how he just disappeared one day. We don’t have that. What we _do_ have is the story about how he was executed on July 27, 1794 in front of a crowd. How would we be able to Houdini his way out of that one? And if you’re arguing that he didn’t, how did Humpty-Dumpty get put back together? They cut off his head, remember?”

“OK, OK. I get it. But why are you playing along with his act, then? Why don’t you just tear him a new one with your logic like you did to me?”

“There is the off chance that time travel to the past is possible but the physicists simply don’t know how, yet. In that case, all we’d have is a shell-shocked Robe—Incorruptible with knowledge of his coming demise and me with egg all over my face. Besides, even if he is a fake, and I believe he is, he’s a damned good one. He chose perfectly based on his appearance and the clothes are absolutely perfect. I’m actually jealous of his sewing skills. Not to mention, you’ve got to have some serious balls to go around claiming to be the man credited with the Reign of Terror. I had to give him credit for that.”

“Oh, yeah. I suppose.”

“It occurs to me, though, that if he is an imposter—a modern man with a detailed understanding of historical clothing and access to a means of teleportation—what are the chances that he doesn’t speak English well enough to understand every word we’ve just said?”

Chloé looked over her shoulder at Robespierre. “Oh, shit.”

“Of course, if he’s going to keep to character, he’ll have to pretend not to have understood a word. As far as I am aware, the real deal didn’t speak English. Just French, Latin, and Greek. Now that I think about it, I’m not sure about Greek.”

“Well, then, we’ll just have to see how well he plays his role,” Chloé said. She left Alexis in the kitchen and went up to Robespierre. “Bienvenue au vingt et unième siècle, Monsieur de Robespierre.” _Welcome to the twenty-first century, Monsieur de Robespierre._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robespierre refuses to believe that he is in the twenty-first century, despite the lightbulbs and microwave.

“Je ne vous crois pas,” Robespierre said. _I do not believe you._ Chloé stared at him in undisguised shock.

“Quoi?” she finally managed to choke. _What?_ “Impossible!” The thought that this might be the real Maximilien de Robespierre and the intimidation that went along with that thought was all that kept her speaking formally as she continued. “Regardez autour de vous! Vous ne pouvez pas être au dix-huitième siècle! Tout de cette chambre est du vingt et unième siècle.” _Look around you! You can’t be in the eighteenth century. Everything in this room is from the twenty-first century._ She went to the wall and began flipping the light switch on and off. “Regardez! L’électricité! Les ampoules! On n’a plus besoin de chandelles!” _Look! Electricity! Lightbulbs! We don’t need candles anymore!_

Robespierre winced every time the lights went on or off but he managed to keep his expression fairly neutral.

“Stop it, Chloé, before you give someone seizures,” Alexis grumbled.

“Fine,” Chloé answered. She crossed the room to where Alexis’s laptop sat on the coffee table in front of the sofa. “Voilà l’ordinateur portable! Regardez les images changeant!” _Here’s a laptop!_ _Look at the changing pictures!_ Chloé let the screen saver keep running as Robespierre approached and looked intently at the screen.

“C’est assez pour vous?” Chloé asked. _Is that enough for you?_

Robespierre shook his head. “Non.”

“Quoi?” Chloé demanded. “Pourquoi pas?” _What? Why not?_

“Vous n’avez pas prouvé que c’est l’avenir, tout simplement qu’il y a des choses avec lesquelles je n’étais pas familier.” _You have not proven that this is the future, simply that there are things with which I was not familiar._

“Vous voulez de la preuve que vous êtes à Paris?” _You want proof that you’re in Paris?_

“En effet.” _Essentially._

“Alexis, qu’est-ce qu’il y a à Paris qui éxistait au dix-huitième siècle?” _Alexis, what is there in Paris that existed during the eighteenth century?_

“Il n’y a pas beaucoup. Paris a changé plusieurs fois.” _There isn’t much. Paris has changed several times._

“Je ne veux pas l’histoire de Paris. Je veux tout simplement de la preuve pour Monsieur de Robespierre.” _I don’t want the history of Paris. I simply want proof for Monsieur de Robespierre._

“D’accord, d’accord. Il y a Versailles, bien sûr.” _OK OK. There’s Versailles, of course._

“Bah, non!”

“Il y a des jardins de Tuileries.” _There are the Tuileries Gardens._

“C’est l’hiver, Alexis.” _It’s winter, Alexis._

“Il y a le Louvre, les catacombes, le cimetière de Père Lachaise…” _There’s the Louvre, the Catacombs, the Père Lachaise cemetery…_

“Le Louvre?” _The Louvre?_

“Oui, le Louvre.” _Yes, the Louvre._

“Parfait!” _Perfect!_

“Non, pas parfait.” _No, not perfect._

“Monsieur de Robespierre, connaissez-vous le Louvre?” _Monsieur de Robespierre, do you know the Louvre?_

Robespierre hesistated a moment. “Ah, oui, un peu. C’est là où est la galerie royale.” _Ah, yes, a little. It is the Royal Gallery._

“Parfait! Nous irons au Louvre!” _Perfect!_ _We’ll go to the Louvre!_

“Non, pas parfait,” Alexis repeated. _No, not perfect._

“Ah! Tu as raison,” Chloé said. “Vous ne pouvez pas aller comme ça, Monsieur de Robespierre.” _Ah! You’re right. You can’t go like that, Monsieur de Robespierre._

“Comme quoi?” Robespierre asked. _Like what?_

“Vos vêtements,” Chloé clarified. “Ils ne sont pas de ce siècle, mais ne vous inquiétez pas. Attendez ici et je reviendrai.” _Your clothes. They aren’t from this century, but don’t worry. Wait here and I’ll be back._

Chloé was up and out the door before either Alexis or Robespierre could ask her what she had meant. Alexis was afraid that Chloé meant to get Robespierre century appropriate clothing. The entire situation was going downhill fast but it would not have taken this turn if Robespierre had not encouraged Chloé.

“Êtes-vous têtu ou croyez-vous sincèrement que ce n’est pas le vingt et unième siècle?” _Are you stubborn or do you sincerely believe that this is not the twenty-first century?_

“Je,” Robespierre began, then took a deep breath. “Je préférerais croire que ce n’est pas le vingt et unième siècle. Je préférais que cette chambre et tous les curiosités ici sont seulement d’un coin inconnu du monde. Mais cette croyance est très difficile à maintenir.” _I, I would rather believe that this is not the twenty-first century. I would rather believe that this room and all the curiosities here are only from an unknown corner of the world._ _But that belief if very hard to maintain._

“Ce sera impossible si vous laisserez Chloé vous montre le Louvre.” _It will be impossible if you allow Chloé to show you the Louvre._

“Je sais mais, mais au même temps je voudrais savoir la vérité. Je dois savoir la vérité. Même si c’est peu agréable.” _I know but, but at the same time I would like to know the truth. I must know the truth. Even if it is unpleasant._

“Et c’est pour ça que vous avez poussé Chloé à vous montre que nous sommes vraiment à Paris.” _And for that you encouraged Chloé to show you that we are truly in Paris._

“Exactement.” _Exactly._

“En ce cas-là, je ne peux pas vous arrêter mais je vais aller avec vous et Chloé.” _In that case, I can’t stop you but I am going to go with you and Chloé._

“Pourquoi?” _Why?_

“Pour vous protéger. Il y a beaucoup à l’avenir que vous ne devez pas savoir.” _To protect you. There is much in the future that you must not know._

“Ah, oui?” _Ah, yes?_

“Oui. Et ça me fait rappeler que je dois demander. Quel es la date? Pour vous, au dix-huitième siècle.” _Yes. And that reminds me that I must ask. What is the date? For you, in the eighteenth century?_

“Le six janvier, 1790.” _The sixth of January, 1790._

“1790,” Alexis repeated. So early, she thought. The war has not even begun yet. It would have been easier if he had come from the steps of the guillotine. Well, aside from the debilitating jaw wound, that is.

“Et la date maintenant?” Robespierre asked. _And the date now?_

“Le six janvier, 2023.” _The sixth of January, 2023._

“Le jour est le même mais l’an est…” _The day is the same but the year is…_

“C’est une différence de deux cent trente-trois ans.” _It’s a difference of two hundred thirty-three years._

“Incroyable. J’aurais été mort depuis deux cent ans. Tous ceux que je connais sont morts depuis deux cent ans.” _Unbelievable. I would have been dead for two hundred years. Everyone I know has been dead for two hundred years._

“Plus ou moins,” Alexis answered uncomfortably, “oui.” _More or less, yes._

A long silence followed. Alexis let her cat out of his carrier. The feline took a moment to express his displeasure at their guest by hissing pointedly at Robespierre before bolting for the bedroom to take shelter under Alexis’s bed. Meanwhile, Alexis picked up the dishes from her half-finished breakfast and took them to the kitchen. She glanced over her shoulder and noticed that Robespierre was still standing awkwardly by the sofa.

“Prenez un siège, si vous voulez,” she told him. _Take a seat, if you want._ She then turned her attention back to the dishes she was washing. Normally, she would have rinsed them out and left them in the sink to wash when the sink was full but she could not bring herself to do that in the presence of a stranger, so she self-consciously washed the dishes thoroughly, dried them, and put them neatly back in the cupboard.

When she looked back over at Robespierre, he was seated on the sofa, a study in uncomfortableness. It was comical how out of place he looked against the background of her apartment.

“Voulez-vous quelque chose à boire?” she asked to break the silence. “J’ai,” she said as she opened the door to her refrigerator. “En fait, je n’ai pas beaucoup. J’ai de l’eau, du thé, du café, et…un demi verre de limonade.” _Do you want something to drink? I have, actually, I don’t have much. I have water, tea, coffee, and…a half glass of lemonade._

“Du café, s’il vous plait.” _Coffee, please._

“Du café,” Alexis repeated, wondering briefly if modern coffee tasted the same as coffee in the eighteenth century. She closed the door to the refrigerator and went to the cupboard for the coffee and her French press. She measured out the water for the press and then put it in the microwave to boil. She glanced surreptitiously at Robespierre as the timer reached zero to watch him jump at the beep. She found it more amusing than she knew she should to watch him react to modern technology, whether it was an act or not.

Alexis poured the water into the French press over the coffee grounds and set the timer on the microwave. As the coffee brewed, she got the cups and saucers out of the cupboard and set them on the counter. She then went to the silverware drawer for the mini spoons she used for coffee when guests were around. Finally, she took the sugar bowel out of the cupboard and brought it to the coffee table in front of the sofa. It was about then that the timer for the coffee went off and so she returned to the kitchen and finished preparing the coffee. The contents of her little French press just nicely filled two coffee cups, one for Robespierre and the other for herself. She set the press in the sink to be washed later and then took the two cups into the living room.

“Je n’ai pas de lait,” she informed Robespierre as she handed him his cup. _I don’t have any milk._ Robespierre nodded his response, taking his cup and then staring down into the depths of the inky liquid. Alexis went around the coffee table and seated herself on the far side of the sofa. She added two spoonfuls of sugar to her drink, stirred it thoroughly, then took a sip, all the while watching Robespierre, who had not moved. “Ce n’est pas empoisonné,” she said with a half-smile after a few moments. _It’s not poisoned._

“Comment?” Robespierre asked, looking up at her. _What?_

“Le café n’est pas empoisonné,” Alexis repeated. _The coffee isn’t poisoned._

“Oh, bien sûr que non,” he answered and took a timid sip. _Oh, of course not._ What he thought of the coffee, he did not say and it did not show on his passive expression.

They sat and drank their coffee in silence. Alexis thought about the man on the sofa next to her. Was he real or was he fake? Her brain was telling her that he must be a fake and her gut was arguing the reverse. Either way, what was she going to do with him? What was her responsibility, her obligation to him? To the past and the present, if he was truly who he said he was? How long would he be there? Was there anything she could do to help him back to where he came from? How much interference was too much?

As for what Robespierre was thinking, Alexis could not even begin to fathom.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloé finds century appropriate clothing for Robespierre.

Stepping out onto the street under a light fall of snow, Chloé pulled her phone from her pocket. She tapped the second most recently called number and held the phone to her ear and began walking very slowly toward the nearest métro station.

“Âllo?” said the male voice on the other end.

“Ah, bonjour.”

“Qu’est-ce que tu veux, Chloé? Je suis au travail.” _What do you want, Chloé? I'm at work._

“Ce n’est pas grande chose; je te promis. Je veux tout simplement prêter des vêtements.” _It’s nothing big; I promise. I simply want to borrow some clothes._

“Quoi? Non.”

“Ce n’est pas pour moi. C’est pour un ami. Il a perdu sa valise dans l’aéroport. C’est seulement un jour, peut-être deux. Je choisirai des vêtements que tu ne portes pas souvent. Je t’en prie.” _It’s not for me. It’s for a friend. He lost his suitcase in the airport. It’s only one day, maybe two. I’ll pick clothes that you don’t wear often. I’m begging you._

“Il a vraiment besoin?” _He really needs them?_

“Vraiment.” Chloé listened to the man on the other end hesitate. _Really._

“Bon, d’accord,” he said at last. _Fine, OK._

“Vraiment? Merci! Tu es le meilleur frère du monde!” _Really?_ _Thank you! You’re the best brother in the world!_

“Tu as besoin de vêtements immédiatement?” _Do you need the clothes immediately?_

“Oh, merde, oui. Et j’ai pas de clé.” _Oh, shit, yes. And I don’t have a key._

“Peux-tu venir au bureau?” _Can you come to the office?_

“Non, c’est trop loin. Un moment, je vais téléphoner Thomas.” _No, it’s too far. Give me a minute, I’m going to call Thomas._ Before her brother could answer, Chloé hung up and called Thomas.

“Âllo?” Thomas answered the phone.

“Thomas? C’est Chloé. Es-tu chez toi?” Chloé asked. _It’s Chloé. Are you home?_

“Oui, malheureusement. J’ai un mal à la tête et je ne pouvais pas aller au travail.” _Yes, unfortunately. I have a headache and I couldn’t go to work._

“Oh, mon pauvre. Mais tu seras là si je viens?” _Poor thing. But you’ll be there if I come over?_

“Oui, pourquoi?” _Yes, why?_

“Julien m’a donné permission de choisir quelques vêtements pour un ami.” _Julien gave me permission to choose some clothes for a friend._

“Quoi? Vraiment?” _What? Really?_

“Oui. Ah! Si tu as de temps demain, veux-tu faire du shopping avec Alexis et moi, et notre ami? Nous devrons lui acheter des vêtements.” _Yes. Ah! If you have time tomorrow, do you want to come shopping with Alex and me and our friend? We have to buy him clothes._

“Il ne peut pas lui-même?” _He can’t do it himself?_

“Euh, c’est compliqué.” _Uh, it’s complicated._

“Eh, pourquoi pas? Si je n’ai pas de mal à la tête demain.” _Eh, why not ? If I don’t have a headache tomorrow._

“Parfait! Alors, je vais te voir bientôt. Ciao ciao.” _Perfect! Then I’ll see you soon._

“Ciao.”

Chloé hung up and sent her brother a short text, saying that Thomas was home so she did not have to stop by the office to pick up a key. She had long since reached the métro station so she took the path to the line she needed and got on the next train.

A short while later, she was knocking on the door to her brother’s apartment. Thomas answered the door, looking pale and as though he had only just woken up.

“Oh, mon pauvre!” Chloé said. “Tu as l’air malade. Tu es sûr que tu n’as pas de fièvre?” _Oh, poor thing! You look sick. Are you sure you don’t have a fever?_

“Oui, c’est seulement un mal à la tête. J’ai choisi quelques choses pour ton ami.” _Yes, it’s only a headache. I picked some clothes for your friend._

“Tu es si gentil,” Chloé said, entering the apartment. _You’re so nice._ She immediately saw the clothes laid out on the sofa and went to look them over. “C’est parfait, mais…mais j’ai besoin de chaussures et chaussettes aussi…” _It’s perfect, but…but I need shoes and socks too…_

“Ton ami n’a rien?” _Your friend has nothing?_

“Oui, c’est fou. Oh, et il a besoin d’un manteau aussi.” _Yes, it’s crazy. Oh, and he needs a coat, too._

Thomas sighed. “Et Julien a d’accord avec tout ça?” _And Julien is fine with all of this?_

“Oui, evidemment.” _Yes, clearly._

“D’accord,” Thomas said, “un moment.” _Fine, one moment._ He disappeared into the bedroom and returned a few minutes later with the requested items. He then found a bag for everything and helped Chloé pack everything in it.

“OK, à demain?” Chloé said, heading for the door with the clothes. _OK, see you tomorrow?_

“Ouais. À quelle heure?” _Yeah. What time?_

“Neuf heure du matin?” _Nine in the morning?_

“OK.”

“Bon, à demain. Maintenant, repose-toi.” _Great, see you tomorrow. Now, get some rest._

“Oui, Madame,” Thomas answered with a weak grin before closing the door behind her.

Chloé was grinning herself as she made her way back to the métro. She could hardly wait to see what Robespierre looked like in modern clothing. She especially wanted to see him without that stupid wig. She was curious to know what his real hair looked like. As she tried to picture it, she realized that she did not have the slightest clue how old he actually was. She had never given it much thought. The white wig made it somewhat hard to tell but she supposed that, since he was a politician, he was an average politician-y age. The number fifty came to mind and she shuddered. How was she ever going to explain such an old friend to Thomas tomorrow?

She was still trying to come to terms with her problem when she opened the door to Alexis’s apartment. Alexis and Robespierre were sitting stiffly on opposite sides of the sofa in silence, each with a coffee. It was a rather endearing scene and, for a moment. Chloé thought that they might make a cute couple. Then she reminded herself that Robespierre was old enough to be Alexis’s father and the scene instantly turned sour.

Trying to distract herself, Chloé announced her presence with, “Hé! Où est mon café?” _Hey! Where’s my coffee?_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robespierre gets some new underwear.

“Tu n’étais pas ici lorsque j’ai fait le café,” Alexis answered her friend without inflexion. _You weren’t here when I made the coffee._ She set her half-empty cup on the coffee table and resumed her stiff posture. She folded her hands in her lap, staring across the room blankly. The cogs in her brain might have been turning but the pensive mind had never been of much interest to Chloé and so she turned her attention from her silent friend to the unique creature on the other end of the sofa.

“J’ai des vêtements pour vous, Monsieur de Robespierre,” she said, reaching into the bag to pull out three packages of new underwear. “Je ne savais pas quelle taille, alors essayez tout. Ça doit être serré mais pas inconfortable. Vous devez enlever tous ce que vous portez avant de mettre ça. Vous comprenez?” _I have clothes for you, Monsieur de Robespierre. I didn’t know what size so try them all. It must be snug but not uncomfortable. You must take off everything you’re wearing before putting that on. Do you understand?_

A surprised Robespierre stared at her in silence as she placed three packages of briefs and three packages of undershirts in his arms. He remained motionless for a very long moment and Chloé lost patience.

“Vous avez besoin d’aide?” she asked. _Do you need help?_ She took the packages from him, opened them, and handed him one pair of briefs and one undershirt of each size. She took a moment to show him the front from the back. She then pulled his arm until he stood and led him to the bathroom. Speaking slowly and annunciating to the point of ridiculousness, she said, “Enlever tout ça et puis mettez tout ça.” _Take off all of that and then put this on._ She then closed the door behind him and walked over to the sofa, which she collapsed on with little grace.

“He’s not stupid, you know,” Alexis said. “Imposter or not, he’s not stupid. You don’t have to treat him like an idiot.”

“What do you want me to do when he just sits there like that? I can’t tell if he doesn’t understand or if he’s just mocking me.”

“He might not understand the objects you place before him, but that doesn’t mean he’s incapable of comprehending the French language. That underwear packaging probably seemed like some kind of foldable glass to him. You can’t expect him to know how to open it. Where did you get it, anyway?”

“I picked it up at the Monoprix down the street. Somewhere between the métro and here, I realized that I didn’t have any underwear for the Incorruptible and that it would have been weird of me to borrow some of Julien’s. I don’t know enough about whatever weird loincloth things they wore back then for me to trust what he was wearing, either.”

“That wasn’t a bad idea,” Alexis said. “But did you just say you got the clothes from Julien?”

“Everything but the underwear.”

“He actually let you borrow his clothes?” Alexis leaned back and shook her head with a small smile.

“Whatever you may think of my brother, he’s actually a really nice guy,” Chloé said defensively.

“I’ve always known he was a nice guy,” Alexis replied. “I just never thought he was so foolish. Letting a complete stranger borrow his clothes…” Alexis shook her head again. “He has no idea what diseases or parasites that man may be carrying. _We_ don’t know, either, for that matter. I trust you didn’t tell your brother who the clothes were for?”

“I said it was for a friend and didn’t get any more specific. Julien never would have agreed if I had told him the clothes were for a possible revolutionary.”

“You know those clothes are never going to fit him, right?”

“So it’s not just me? He seems short to you, too?”

“He _is_ short. People were shorter back then. I’m a little over what was considered average for men back then, myself.”

“Well, I guess that means we’ll just have to alter whatever clothes we buy for him tomorrow.”

“What clothes? We’re not buying him any clothes.”

“What do you expect him to wear, then? He can’t keep wearing Julien’s clothes forever.”

“He won’t _be_ here forever,” Alexis snapped. “He might not even be here _tomorrow_.”

“And if he is? And the day after that? And the day after that? Or do you know how to send him back to wherever he came from? If you do, then what are you waiting for?” Chloé sniffed then shook it off with a shake of her shoulders. “Anyway, what’s taking him so long?” She went to the bathroom door and knocked on it delicately. “Mon cher Monsieur de Robespierre, avez-vous besoin d’aide?” _My dear Monsieur de Robespierre, do you need help?_

There was a long silence, then Robespierre’s voice could be heard from the other side of the door. “Non, Mademoiselle.”

“Alors, qu’est-ce que c’est le problème?” Chloé asked. There was silence on the other side of the door. _So what’s the problem?_

“Are you really asking him—a middle class eighteenth century man from a strict Catholic home—to come out in his skivvies in front of two women?” Alexis asked. She gave Chloé a pointed look and then took a sip of her coffee.

“I thought all those revolutionary guys were atheists or something,” Chloé said back, trying to distract from the fact that she did not know the word “skivvies”.

“That’s a misconception,” Alexis answered, taking the bait. “There were atheists, of course, but not so many as you might think. Most of them, like the specimen in the bathroom, were deists.”

“And…you’ve lost me,” Chloé said, bored almost immediately with the history lesson. She spoke again to cut off any further explanation from Alexis. “Well, this is bullshit.”

Alexis was about to answer, “Not to him,” but Chloé had grabbed the door handle with the intent to rattle it a little. Finding it unlocked, she pushed the door open.

“Et voilà,” she said to the shocked Robespierre within, “le pire est passé. Je vous ai vu. C’est fini. Sortez de la salle de bain. J’ai des vêtements pour vous.” _There, the worst is over. I saw you. It’s over. Come out of the bathroom. I have clothes for you._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robespierre gets his hair washed.

Robespierre exited the bathroom looking very small and very young without his layers of eighteenth century clothing or his wig. Alexis regretted not having taken a photo before he changed his clothes and tried not to stare at the underwear-clad man. Chloé gaped openly.

“Quel âge avez-vous?” she asked as soon as she found her voice. “Vous n’avez pas l’air de cinquante ans.” _How old are you._ _You don’t seem fifty._ She stared most pointedly at his longish greasy chestnut hair which was marked with almost no grey.

“Pardon?” asked Robespierre.

“Vous avez l’air jeune pour avoir cinquante ans,” Chloé repeated. _You seem young for fifty._

“Bien sûr,” Robespierre replied. “Je n’ai pas cinquante ans.” _Of course. I am not fifty._

“Non?” Chloé asked, surprised. “Quarante?” _Forty?_

“Trente et un,” Robespierre answered, a little indignantly. _Thirty-one._

“Ah, c’est tout le même,” Chloé answered. _Ah, it’s all the same._ Her interest was lost with the mystery solved, and she did not see much difference between thirty and forty. Anyone who had left the twenties behind, no matter how recently, was marked as old in her book—especially men.

Alexis, who was still a little sensitive about age after having just spent Christmas being interrogated by the conservative faction of her family about why a healthy twenty-nine-year-old woman was not a married mother, squirmed uncomfortably in her seat as she recognized the direction of her much younger friend’s thoughts and kicked the bag of clothes to direct Chloé’s attention back to the matter at hand.

Chloé took the bait. She pulled out a crisp, white shirt and held it up for a moment before lowering her arms and sighing. “Je ne peux pas. Je dois faire quelque chose avec ses cheveux,” she said. “Alexis, as-tu du shampooing?” _I can’t. I must do something with his hair._ _Alexis, do you have shampoo?_

“Oui…mais…” _Yes…but…_

“Pas de problème. Je peux le trouver.” _Not a problem. I can find it._ And Chloé quickly disappeared into the bathroom. She returned moments later with both the shampoo and the conditioner. She started toward the kitchen and motioned for Robespierre to follow her. “Venez, venez.” _Come, come._ Robespierre hesitated and then followed.

“Hé!” Alexis called. “Qu’est-ce que tu fais dans la cuisine?” _Hey! What are you doing in the kitchen ?_

“C’est plus facile. Il y a un pulvérisateur dans la cuisine,” Chloé answered. _It’s easier. There’s a sprayer in the kitchen._ Alexis made a sound that was between a sigh and a snort and said no more.

Robespierre obediently followed Chloé’s directions, likely too perplexed or curious to object, right up until and possibly a few seconds after she began spraying water at him. The kitchen sink was not the ideal place to wash someone else’s hair (or one’s own, for that matter), especially not when the other person was standing and had to bend almost double to position their head over the sink. This was compounded by the fact that Robespierre was not yet familiar with the concept of running water and was quite surprised to find it pouring down on him from the device in Chloé’s hand. The panic began the second he was over the initial shock but his disorientation ensured that, although she was somewhat smaller than him and certainly weaker, Chloé was able to maintain control. All Robespierre’s thrashing got him was a snoot full of water.

“Aidez-moi!” he gaspingly entreated Alexis. “Elle va me noyer!” _Help me!_ _She is going to drown me!_ Unfortunately, as much as she pitied Robespierre and his discomfort, Alexis was quietly glad that Chloé had undertaken to clean him up a bit. She was not thrilled by the idea of eighteenth century standards of cleanliness.

When Chloé had finished washing Robespierre’s hair, he looked remarkably like Alexis’s cat after a bath—that is, soaked through and seriously displeased. He slunk back to the sofa and perched on the end as Chloé scurried back into the bathroom to put away the shampoo and retrieve a towel for Robespierre. He gave her a withering look as she handed it to him and watched her suspiciously as she returned to the kitchen to clean up the mess they had made.

Once the mess in the kitchen was cleared up, Chloé went back to the bathroom and emerged with the hair dryer. Alexis winced at the thought of Robespierre’s reaction to this machine.

“Oh, pitié,” she found herself saying. “C’est assez pour aujourd’hui, n’est-ce pas?” _Oh, have mercy. That’s enough for today, isn’t it?_

“Mais il ne peut pas aller dehors avec les cheveux mouillé,” Chloé answered. “C’est l’hiver. Que pensez-vous, Monsieur de Robespierre?” _But he can’t go outside with wet hair. It’s winter. What do you think, Monsieur de Robespierre?_

Robespierre looked at the hair dryer with apprehension but, in the end, he had to agree that going outside with wet hair was ill-advised. Anyway, the young woman seemed determined to put the device to use, and he was quickly learning that her determination was not something to be taken lightly.

By the time Chloé was finished, Robespierre hair was sleek and shiny and about two shades lighter than it had been before. The cut was awful by modern standards and Chloé pursed her lips as she looked at it. Alexis could tell that she was just itching to remedy the situation but they both saw how hard Robespierre was trying to hide the fact that he was shaking. He had had enough modernizing for one day.

Alexis almost proposed calling off the trip to the Louvre but she could not make the words leave her mouth. There was a part of her that wanted to show off what Paris had become even though she knew that, provided he was the real deal, every glimpse of the future that Robespierre got endangered the past, and that part of her had a hold of her tongue.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robespierre finally gets dressed.

Chloé leaned over and grabbed Robespierre’s shirt by the back of the neck. She pulled the fabric back and looked at the screen-printed tag on the inside. “Petit,” she said. “J’aurais dû savoir.” _Small. I should have known._ She hunted around for the correct bag and then, finding it, took out a fresh, small undershirt. She presented it to Robespierre, “Voilà, un maillot de corps sec.” _Here, a dry undershirt._

Robespierre took the shirt from her with a look of marked suspicion then he got up and disappeared into the bathroom to change.

“I do kind of feel bad,” Chloé said, looking at the closed bathroom door. “I really didn’t think I’d scare him that much.”

“Really,” Alexis replied flatly.

“I _do_ ,” Chloé insisted. “Do you think he’ll forgive me?”

“I don’t really know enough about him to know _what_ he’ll do next.”

“It’s just that I told Thomas that he’s a friend and, if we go out shopping tomorrow with him and he’s not acting all chummy, Thomas might suspect something.”

“Thomas? When did Thomas get involved in this?”

“Earlier, when I went to pick up Julien’s clothes. I told him we were going shopping tomorrow and asked if he wanted to come along.”

“Firstly, we’re not going shopping tomorrow. Secondly, what part of you, exactly, thought that telling Thomas about our guest was a good idea?”

“Firstly, our ‘guest’ can’t keep wearing my brother’s clothes. Even if Julien would let him—and he won’t—they won’t fit him at all. Secondly, I _told you_ that I said he was a friend.”

“You told me that you told _Julien_ that you were borrowing clothes for a friend, not that you were inviting Thomas along on a non-existent shopping trip.”

“It’s not like I plan on telling Thomas who he really is, either,” Chloé said.

“Provided our resident historical figure can be convinced to play along with your scheme,” Alexis pointed out.

“And why wouldn’t he?”

“Because you’re not going to tell him that he’s a famous historical figure whose identity needs to be kept under wraps partly because no one would believe him but mostly because the majority of people who know who he is know him as an evil tyrant who made blood run in the streets of Paris.”

Before Chloé had a chance to reply, Robespierre exited the bathroom. Chloé and Alexis both looked at him and then at each other. The argument would have to be put on hold. Alexis put a definite period on it by getting up off of the sofa and going over to Robespierre.

“Donnez le moi,” she told him, holding her hand out for the wet undershirt. _Give it to me._ Robespierre handed her the shirt. She took it into her room. She pulled the drying rack from her closet, set it up, and then put the shirt on it. When she turned around, her cat was staring at her from the bed. “Don’t look at me like that,” she said. “I’d rather have our apartment to ourselves, too.” She scratched the feline’s ears until she could feel him purring and then exited the room in time to see Robespierre finished buttoning the white shirt.

“C’est un peu trop grand,” she commented, winding her way back to her seat on the sofa. _It’s a little too big_.

“Un peu trop grand?” Chloé asked. “C’est énorme! Cette chemise est de qui? Pas mon frère!” _A little too big? It’s enormous! Whose shirt is this? Not my brother’s!_

“Tu exagères,” Alexis said. _You’re exaggerating_. The shirt was, indeed, noticeably too large for Robespierre but he was by no means drowning in it.

Chloé, unconvinced, grimaced, and handed Robespierre the pants. The pants were worse than the shirt. The legs were far too long and pooled around his ankles while the waist was just loose enough that it began to sag very quickly, leaving the rear looking baggy and sloppy. Chloé sighed forcibly and turned to Alexis.

“As-tu une ceinture qu’il peut porter?” she asked. _Do you have a belt he can wear?_

Alexis nodded. She preferred her belts plain, so most of what she had was unisex enough for Robespierre to borrow. She had just stood up to retrieve the belt when Robespierre spoke.

“Pardon, mais ne vaudrait-il pas mieux de prêter des vêtements de Monsieur Barden? Il a l’air d’être plus près à ma taille.” _Pardon me, but wouldn’t it be better to borrow Monsieur Barden’s clothes?_ _He seems to be closer to my size._

There was a moment of silence as both Chloé and Alexis processed what he had said. Then Chloé began to laugh loud and hard as Alexis sank back down on the sofa in humiliation.

“Qu’y a-t-il de drôle?” Robespierre asked, perplexed. _What’s so funny?_ Chloé was still laughing too hard to answer and Alexis was too embarrassed to admit the truth, so he was left without an answer.

“Non, mais…c’est une idée,” Chloé said when she had gotten herself under control. “Alexis, ton pull ne te va du tout, mais ça ira Monsieur de Robespierre très bien.” _No, but…that’s an idea. Alexis, your sweater doesn’t suit you at all, but it would suit Monsieur de Robespierre very well._

“No,” Alexis replied immediately.

“Mais tu étais sur le point de lui prêter une ceinture et ce pull aidera ce…look.” _But you were about to lend him a belt and that sweater will help that…look._

“No,” Alexis repeated.

“S’il te plait. Je t’en prie.” _Please. I’m begging you._

“No.”

“Regarde Monsieur de Robespierre. Est-ce que tu veux vraiment qu’il sort comme ça?” _Look at Monsieur de Robespierre. Do you really want him to go out like that?_

Alexis did look at Robespierre and the answer was no. The main issue was that he needed a belt. He had not worn the pants for five minutes and they were already sliding off his waist, and that would only get worse once he began to walk. If she lent him the belt, however, she would have to lend him the sweater, too. Chloé would not let her be, otherwise.

The sweater was black, plain and baggy, but warm. She had bought it cheaply years ago and she never wore it in public anymore, although there was nothing really wrong with it. She had been intending to change her clothes before they left for the Louvre anyway. What did it hurt her to lend it to him, after all?

Alexis sighed. “Eh bien.” Since she was wearing a camisole under the sweater, she stripped it off and tossed it to Chloé before returning to her room to change and retrieve the belt, leaving behind a grinning Chloé and a gaping Robespierre.

“Je n’aimais jamais ce pull. Il lui donne un air masculin,” Chloé said, as she straightened out the rumbled sweater. _I never liked this sweater. It makes her look manly._


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio finally finishes getting ready to go.

Alexis leaned against the closed door of her room and exhaled deeply. She closed her eyes as she murmured, “I am a modern, sexually liberated woman. I don’t need anyone’s approval. I don’t need anyone’s recognition.” She took another deep breath, trying to relax the tensed muscles in her shoulders. This was the incantation she repeated every time the shame of having broken from the image of a woman that her ultra-conservative upbringing had presented as the only correct one.

Calmer now, she straightened and approached her closet. Even if she had absolved herself of any guilt or shame over the misunderstanding, there remained the question of whether to change to conform to Robespierre’s expectations or not. Provided he didn’t stay long, it would be easier to simply pretend as much as possible to be the sort of woman he was used to. Her instincts raged against such a decision. _Why should I have to pretend to be something I’m not just for the comfort of some man?_ But Robespierre was not just some man and, the more smoothly his short stay in the present went, the more smoothly his return to the past should go. It was certain that Chloé would not be helping the situation, although she did have the advantage of not having been mistaken for a man.

With that in mind, Alexis contemplated her wardrobe. She selected a flowing maxi skirt, a plum colored turtleneck, and a well-tailored blazer. Satisfied that her clothing was conservative enough to suit 18th century sensibilities but modern enough to prevent her from looking like an anachronism, she turned her attention to searching out a plain black belt for her revolutionary guest to wear.

*****

As soon as Alexis had shut the door to her room, color rose in Robespierre’s pale cheeks. Chloé observed the violence of his blushing with amusement.

“Elle est jolie, non?” she said with a grin, giving him a light jab with her elbow. _She is pretty, no?_ The color in Robespierre’s cheeks deepened. “Beaucoup mieux comme une femme.” _Much better as a woman._ Chloé straightened out the sweater and handed it to Robespierre to put on.

Robespierre rubbed the plush fabric between his fingers, then began to speak. “Elle a le nom d’un homme. Elle s’habille comme un homme. Elle n’essaie point de cacher ses cheveux courts. Elle est grande. Elle marche comme un homme. Elle parle comme un homme. Elle m’a reçu comme un homme. Alors, comment est-ce qu’on peut me blâmer pour avoir pensé qu’elle est un homme?” _She has a man’s name. She dresses like a man. She does not try at all to hide her short hair. She is tall. She walks like a man. She talks like a man. She greeted me like a man. So, how can you fault me for having thought her to be a man?_

“Êtes-vous aveugle? Chloé asked back. _Are you blind?_ “Qu’est-ce que vous voyez d’un homme en elle…à part de ce pull affreux?” _What part of her looks manly to you…apart from that god awful sweater?_

Robespierre scrutinized Chloé’s expression in silence as she waited for his answer, then said, “Tout ce que j’ai déjà dit.” _Everything that I have already said._

“Vous ne pouvez pas tout simplement se catégoriser comme ça. Ce n’est pas juste si vous la jugez—“ _You can’t just categorize her like that. It’s not fair if you’re judging her—_

“Par les normes de son époque?” Alexis asked, stepping out of her room. _By the standards of his time?_ Both Chloé and Robespierre stared at her. “C’est peut-être vrai, mais, si je puis me permettre, quel autres normes a-t-il pour juger?” _That may be true, but, if I may ask, what other standards does he have with which to judge?_

Chloé opened her mouth the answer, then closed it because she could find no answer. Alexis smiled with her lips pressed together. She approached Robespierre and set the coiled belt on top of the sweater in his hands. “Une ceinture pour vous.” _A belt for you._ She turned to Chloé. “Je serai prête en cinq minutes. Peux-tu l’avoir prêt d’ici là?” _I will be ready in five minutes. Can you have him ready by then?_

“Ah, ouais,” Chloé answered.

“Bon.” Alexis then went into the bathroom to apply her makeup.

“Alors, pensez-vous qu’elle soit plus féminine maintenant?” Chloé asked smugly. _So, do you think she’s more feminine now?_

Robespierre fidgeted before admitting. “Oui.”

Chloé stood a little taller, soaking in the satisfaction of a small victory. She took the sweater and belt from Robespierre. “Mettez ça d’abord,” she said, handing him back the belt. _Put this on first._

Robespierre fastidiously adjusted his pants and shirt before wrapping the belt around the top of the pants.

“Les boucles de ceinture, les boucles de ceinture,” Chloé said, stopping him before he could fasten the belt. _Belt loops, belt loops._ She took it from him and began feeding it through the loops.

Robespierre tried to take the belt back from her. “Je puis le faire moi-même,” he protested. _I can do it myself._

Chloé brushed his hands away. “Ne bougez pas.” _Just stand still._ When she had finished, she handed the belt back to Robespierre to buckle. She then gave him the sweater. When he had put it on, she stepped back to take in the “look”. “Pas mal,” she conceded. _Not bad._ “Maintenant, vos cheveux.” _Now for your hair._ Robespierre noticeably flinched. “Oh, ne faites pas l’enfant.” _Oh, don’t be a baby._ She dug around in her purse and pulled out a hair tie.

“Tournez-vous.” _Turn around._ Robespierre stayed as he was. “Ou ne vous tournez pas. C’est aussi bien.” _Or don’t turn around. That’s fine, too._ She stepped around him and gathered his hair at the nape of his neck, ran her fingers through it so that it lay flat against his scalp, and then tied it off with the hair tie. “Voilà,” she said and patted him on the back.

Alexis emerged from the bathroom, hair put in place, face painted, and modest jewelry glittering.

“Il y a seulement une chose que je dois faire avant de partir, si vous êtes prêts,” she said.  _There’s just one more thing I need to do before we go, if you’re ready._

“Nous sommes prêts,” Chloé answered. _We’re ready._

Alexis crossed the room and opened the drawer of the side table next to the sofa. She pulled out a small box filled with safety pins of varying sizes. “Je doute que ton frère l’apprécierait si notre nouvel ami marchait sur tout le pantalon,” she explained as she went to kneel before Robespierre. He leaned forward to see what she was doing. “Tenez-vous droit,” she instructed him. _Stand up straight._ She folded the hem of each leg under and pinned them at a reasonable length for Robespierre’s short legs.

She stood and brushed off her skirt. “Maintenant, je crois, nous sommes prêts à partir.” _Now, I believe, we are ready to go._


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robespierre gets his first taste of modern Paris.

They bundled up in coats against the mild Parisian winter and marched toward the door. Alexis trailed behind, checking the lights and pausing at the small table set beside the door to pick up her purse and the jumble of metal that was her key ring.

Chloé opened the door to a narrow hall, lit by on meager, orangey light, and ushered Robespierre out of the apartment. She was stopped from following by Alexis, who grabbed her shoulder and held out her other hand. “Mes clés?” _My keys?_

With the shamed look of a child caught in an act they had been certain they could get away with, Chloé reached into the deep pocket of her winter coat and pulled out the spare set of keys to Alexis’s apartment. Alexis snatched them and dropped them on the table before giving Chloé a light push forward and following her through the doorway.

She shut the door and locked it, then turned around to find Chloé and Robespierre watching her. “Alors, descendez, descendez, descendez,” she said, ushering them toward the stairs. _Well, down, down, down._ Chloé went first, Robespierre followed and, once more, Alexis took up the rear as their three-man party trooped down six flights of stairs.

Robespierre froze when they reached the bottom of the first flight and the motion sensor turned on the next floor’s lights. Chloé continued, oblivious, while Alexis, who had allowed her mind to wander a little too far afield, nearly bowled him over.

“Monsieur de Robespierre,” she asked, “qu’est-ce que c’est le problème?” _What is the matter?_

“Les lumières,” he answered, “se sont illuminées toutes seules.” _The light lit up by themselves._

He had been stolid in the face of Chloé’s earlier displays but, now his composure was failing.

_The shock must be wearing off,_ Alexis mused.

“De tous les choses de ce monde dont vous ferez face, celle-ci est des moindres alarmante,” she told him. “Si vous faiblissez ici, vous devriez rester à l’appartement.” _Of all the things you will face in this world, this is among the least alarming. If you falter here, you had better remain in the apartment._

Robespierre turned his head half way toward her. “Est-ce que vous m’appelez un lâche, Madame?” _Are you calling me a coward?_

Alexis smiled. “Mais non. Continuons.” _Of course not. Let us continue._ Robespierre turned back to face forward and began to descend the stairs once more. Alexis’s words may have made it a matter of pride not to falter, but she still saw him tense each time the lights came on.

Chloé had long since reached the street when they joined her. “Pourquoi avez-vous tant tardé?” she asked teasingly as they stepped out onto the street. _What took you so long?_ Alexis refused to dignify with an answer the question which would lead to teasing about age or flirting, and Robespierre was too stunned by his first view of the twenty-first century beyond the confines of Alexis’s apartment to notice the question at all.

The street, relatively wide for a side street, was lined with cars on both sides. Facing the apartment building was a low brick wall, behind which sat low, ugly buildings. To the left, the street ended at a modern church. To the right, the street continued on, accommodating more second empire buildings identical to the one from which the trio had emerged.

Robespierre approached one of the parked cars. He peered through the window at the strange buttons and dials. He leaned a little too close and Alexis pulled him back.

“Ne la touchez pas,” she warned, imagining the disastrous reaction he would have to a car alarm. _Don’t touch that._  

“Mais qu’est-ce que c’est?” he asked as he allowed himself to be pulled away. _But what is it?_

“Une voiture,” Chloé answered. _A car._

“Ah,” Robespierre said, “c’est alors un quartier riche?” _Ah, this is a wealthy neighborhood, then?_

“Euh, je suppose,” Chloé answered, surprised by the turn of the conversation. “Je pense que c’est assez ordinaire. Qu’est-ce que tu penses, Alexis? Tu paies quoi pour cet appartement?” _Uh, I guess. I think it’s pretty average. What do you think, Alexis? What are you paying for that apartment?_

“Je ne dis pas,” Alexis answered. “C’est de l’information privée.” _I’m not saying. That’s private information._

“Je comprends,” Robespierre said. “Ils ont les moyens d’avoir des voitures mais ils n’ont pas d’espace pour elles là-dedans? Et…ils louent des chevaux.” _I understand. They have the means for the cars but they don’t have space for them inside? And…they rent the horses._

“Personne a des chevaux,” Chloé said. _No one has horses._

“Je comprends… Alors, laquelle est de vous, Madame Barden?” _I see… So, which one is yours, Madame Barden?_

“Je n’en ai pas d’une,” Alexis said. _I don’t have one._

Robespierre was quiet for a moment, contemplative.

“Êtes-vous, peut-être, une domestique?” he asked.

“Absolument pas,” Alexis answered forcefully. _Absolutely not._ She took him by the arm and began to pull him along. “Allons-y.” _Let’s go._

Initially, a confused Robespierre resisted but Chloé followed Alexis, leaving him no choice but to go with or be left behind.

At the first intersection, Alexis turned right onto a similar side street. Robespierre looked up at the bright white façades of the buildings which reached up and blended with the white-grey of the winter sky. Chloé had to stop him and pull him back before he stepped into the road in front of a car at the following intersection.

“Vous devrez regarder où vous allez,” she scolded. _You have to watch where you are going._ Alexis came to a stop beside them, looked both ways six times, then rapidly crossed the street. She glanced over her shoulder and, seeing that the others were not following, waited for them. “Alors, peut-être pas autant qu’elle. Elle déteste tout simplement les voitures. Allons.” _Well, maybe not as much as her. She just hates cars. Come on._ Chloé briefly looked both ways and then pulled Robespierre with her across the street.

After crossing the street, there was only a short segment of residential side street before it ended at a bustling avenue. Robespierre halted at this road, marveling at the line of cars, shops with flashing lights, and the impressive structure of the métro rising up over the middle of the road.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio arrives at the metro station.

“Qu’est-ce que c’est?” Robespierre asked as the women began moving toward the station structure. _What is that?_

“C’est le métro,” Chloé answered. _It’s the métro._

“Le…métro,” Robespierre repeated. “Et qu’est-ce que c’est?” _And what is that?_

Chloé and Alexis exchanged a glance, then Chloé flashed a grin and said, “Vous verrez.” _You’ll see._

They followed the busy street parallel the tracks. Robespierre couldn’t take his off of them, so Alexis took his arm to ensure he kept up.

“This was a bad idea,” she told Chloé.

“He was the one who wanted to come,” the younger woman protested.

As they reached the crosswalk that led to the median where the station stood, a train pulled into the towering structure. Robespierre tensed and Alexis struggled to pull him across the road.

“Venez,” she said. “Vous ne voulez pas être renversé par une voiture, pas vrai?” _Come on. You don’t want to be hit by a car, do you?_ The threat, however, had little impact.

“Qu’est-ce que c’est?” he asked when Alexis had managed to drag him to the median. “Le métro?” _What is that? The métro?_

“Techniquement, le métro est le système et ça c’est seulement un train,” Alexis answered. “Mais oui.” _Tehcnically, the métro is the system and that is only one train. But yes._

“Et nous allons là?” _And we are going there?_

“Oui.”

“Pourquoi?” _Why?_

“Pour que nous puissions aller au Louvre,” Chloé supplied impatiently. _So that we can go to the Louvre._

“Ah, c’est un moyen de transportation,” Robespierre said. “Mais il n’y a pas d’autre moyen pour y aller?” _Ah, it is a means of transportation. But is there no other way to go?_

“Nous pouvons prendre le bus,” Alexis said, “mais…” _We could take the bus, but…_ She took her phone out of her purse and looked up the map of bus routes. “Non, ça marchera. Nous pouvons prendre le bus au Champ de Mars et puis prendre le ligne 69 au Louvre.” _No, that would work. We could take the bus to the Champ de Mars and then take line 69 to the Louvre._

“Et qu’est-ce que c’est le bus?” Robespierre asked. _And what is the bus?_

“C’est…c’est comme une voiture mais beaucoup plus grand—“ _It’s…it’s like a car but much bigger—_

“Et bruyant,” Chloé added. _And loud._

“Et bruyant,” Alexis agreed.

“Et il pue,” Chloé added again. _And it stinks._

“Tu n’aimes pas le bus, si?” Alexis said. _You don’t like the bus, do you?_

“Je préfère le métro,” Chloé answered. _I prefer the métro._

“Pourrions-nous marcher?” Robespierre asked. _Could we walk?_

“Ça prendra…” Alexis looked up a route on her phone. “Une petite heure.” _That would take…about an hour._

“Je refuse,” Chloé said. “Pas avec ces chaussures.” _I refuse. Not with these shoes._

“De toute façon, ce sont là les choix,” Alexis said. _Anyway, those are the options._

Robespierre looked up at the structure looming above them. “C’est sans danger?” he asked. _Is it safe?_

“Absolument,” Alexis answered. “Plus que le bus ou marcher, au moins.” _Absolutely. Safer than the bus or walking, at least._

Robespierre contemplated for a long moment. “Je ne le fais confiance,” he admitted. _I don’t trust it._

“Bien sûr que non,” Alexis said. “Vous ne savez rien de ça. Vous ne savez non plus rien de, bien, pour être honnête, grand-chose au vingt-et-unième siècle. Nous pouvons seulement espérer que vous retournez d’où vous êtes venu avant que vous deviez trop apprendre. Venez.” _Of course not. You don’t know anything about it. You don’t know anything about, well, to be honest, much of anything about the twenty-first century. We can only hope that you return to where you’ve come from before you have to learn much. Come on._ She walked briskly up to the entrance of the station and approached the kiosk where she proceeded to buy Robespierre a day ticket for the métro.

Robespierre balked at the turnstile as Chloé pressed her month pass to the sensor—it lit up and beeped—and she walked through. Alexis came up behind him and pressed her hands against his back to guide him up to the gate.

“Non,” he said, shaking his head and resisting. “Non, je ne peux pas. Je ne peux pas.” _No. No, I cannot. I cannot._

“Oh, allez-y,” Chloé complained form the other side of the gate. _Oh, come on._

“Vous devez,” Alexis said. _You have to._

“Mais…” _But…_

“Ça me fait me demander qu’est-ce que vous avez fait pendant votre époque que vous êtes un tel lâche maintenant,” she snapped. _It makes me wonder what you did during your time that you are such a coward now._

Robespierre resisted even more forcefully. “N’agissez pas comme vous me connaissez,” he said. _Do not act as though you know me._

“Je connais ce que j’ai vu,” Alexis replied. “Soit que vous avez laissé votre peur du métro surmonte votre désir de savoir la vérité, soit que vous ne désirez jamais savoir la vérité.” _I only know what I have seen. Either you have let your fear of the métro overcome your desire to know the truth or you never desired to know the truth._

They stared at each other in challenge, jaws set, neither prepared to back down. Chloé shifted her weight impatiently.

“Allons, allons. Nous raterons le train,” she said. _Let’s go, let’s go. We’ll miss the train._

“Il faut décider,” Alexis said. “Mais, si vous reculez, vous pourriez ne jamais savoir.” _You have to decide. But, if you turn back, you may never know._

Robespierre hesitated, then, with a sigh and a grimace, turned to face the gate. “Quelle femme impossible,” he muttered irritably. _Impossible woman._

“Ouais, ouais,” Alexis said. “Allez.” _Yeah, yeah. Go on._ She inserted his ticket into the machine, then gave him a light push toward the turnstile. He stumbled through and met Chloé on the other side. She pulled his ticket from the machine and handed it to Alexis, who had come through hard on Robespierre’s heels.

“I thought you didn’t want him to go to the Louvre,” she said.

“I don’t, but he was being stubborn and I,” she sighed, “I rose to the occasion.”

Chloé laughed. She took Robespierre’s arm and led him up the stairs, past the staring souvenir vendor who had watched their drama unfold, to the platform. Alexis lagged behind, contemplating the portrait of Napoléon’s coronation and the potential consequences of her own stubbornness.


	10. Chapter 10

There was no one else on the platform. Robespierre hesitantly approached the edge and looked down at the tracks.

“Attention,” Chloé said. “C’est dangereux. Vous pourriez mourir.” _Be careful. It’s dangerous. You could die._

Robespierre jerked back and took several large steps away from the edge. Just as he settled in a safe distance away from the platform’s edge, the dull roar of an approaching train became audible. As the sound grew in volume, Robespierre resumed his retreat from the edge of the platform.

The train pulled in and Alexis stepped behind Robespierre to stop him from fleeing. It was mostly empty on a Friday mid-morning in winter. An elderly couple and a woman with a pair of rowdy toddlers occupied the car closest to Chloé. She pulled the lever on the door and it opened with a heavy sigh. Robespierre looked over his shoulder at Alexis.

“Vous avez décidé,” she said. _You decided._

Robespierre turned back toward the train and stepped forward slowly but resolutely.

“Vite, vite,” Chloé pressed from the interior of the train. _Quickly, quickly._

With Alexis following and Chloé summoning, Robespierre did not have the chance to change his mind, if he had had the intention of doing so. The doors clinked shut behind Alexis with the finality of a lock and the train lurched forward. The city behind to slide by the window with gaining speed. Robespierre blanched.

“Je ne me sens pas bien,” he murmured to no one in particular and wobbled over to a seat. _I do not feel well._ He sat down stiffly, hands clenched in white-knuckled balls. Alexis followed and sat down across from him. She leaned forward to look out the window.

The train pulled into the next stop and Robespierre began to stand up. Alexis looked over and motioned for him to sit back down. “Pas encore,” she said. _Not yet._ Robespierre perched himself again on the edge of his seat. The next stop came and Alexis shook her head when Robespierre looked at her.

The tracks turned down and Robespierre looked around frantically as the train entered the tunnel that would put it on level with the rest of the subterranean system.

He leaned toward Alexis. “Vous ne m’avez pas dit que ce métro irait sous terre,” he hissed. _You did not tell me that this métro would go underground._

Alexis leaned toward Robespierre until she was close enough to make him lean back uncomfortably. “Qu’importe?” _What difference does it make?_ Rather than answer, Robespierre turned toward the window, which reflected the illuminated interior of the train. He looked back at Alexis when they pulled into the next stop. She shook her head. “Il y a deux arrêts de plus avant le nôtre.” _There are two more stops before ours._ Robespierre turned back to the window but, as each of the stops passed, glanced at Alexis to ensure she was not leaving without him.

When the third stop arrived, Alexis finally stood and Robespierre scrambled to follow her as she exited the train. Chloé had exited ahead of them and was shifting impatiently on the platform as they approached.

“Je dois m’en aller,” she said. _I have to go._

“Quoi? Pourquoi?” Alexis asked. _What? Why?_

“J’ai un rendez-vous pour déjeuner. Je n’avais pas réalisé que c’était si tard. Il s’appelle Lucas. Il est bien chaud. Tu veux voir un photo?” _I have a lunch date. I didn’t realize it was so late. His name’s Lucas. He’s really hot. Do you want to see a photo?_

“Pas vraiment.” _Not really._

“En tout cas, tu peux emmener Monsieur de Robespierre au Louvre, non?” _Anyway, you can take Monsieur de Robespierre to the Louvre, no?_

“S’il le veut,” Alexis answered in a clipped tone. _If he wants me to._

“Formidable. Prend beaucoup de photos. Je veux voir sa réaction à la Joconde.” _Great. Take lots of photos. I want to see what his reaction to the Mona Lisa is._

Alexis opened her mouth to respond but hesitated, uncertain of the best way to voice her opinion of Chloé’s instructions. The younger woman took advantage of this pause to leave.

“Beaucoup de photos,” she repeated. _Lots of photos._ She then said “à toute à l’heure” to Robespierre and sprinted up the stairs.

“Alors,” Alexis said, turning toward Robespierre. “Est-ce que vous voulez toujours aller au Louvre? Si vous avez le moindre doute, c’est le moment de retourner.” _So. Do you still want to go to the Louvre? If you have the slightest doubt, now is the time to turn back._

Robespierre looked at the empty track, then at Alexis. “Après tout ce que j’ai traversé, je mérite de la preuve.” _After all that I have been through, I deserve some proof._ He hesitated. “Il est loin, le Louvre?” _How much further is it?_

“Nous devons prendre un train de plus.” _We have to take another train._

Robespierre took a steadying breath. “Montrez la voie.” _Lead the way._

Alexis looked him up and down, then turned and ascended the stairs. She glanced over her shoulder to ensure that Robespierre was following her then froze, unsure of where to go next. At some point during the two years she’d lived in Paris, she had stopped visiting the monuments and museums that had drawn her spontaneously during her free hours when she had first arrived. She was almost certain that it was a straight shot from Étoile to the Louvre, but was it Ligne 1 or Ligne 2?

“Vous ne connaissez pas le chemin?” Robespierre asked. _You don’t know the way?_

“Taisez-vous, s’il vous plait. Je pense,” she replied. _Be quiet, please. I’m thinking._

Ligne 2. Ligne 2 went to Victor Hugo and that was nowhere near the Louvre. No, it had to be Ligne 1, but which direction? She supposed she could look it up on her phone but what was the point? There was a list of stops on a plaque next to the stairs leading down to the Ligne 1 track.

“Vous ne savez pas où nous irons, si?” Robespierre said. _You do not know where we are going, do you?_

“Chut,” Alexis said. “Laissez-moi lire le panneau.” _Shush. Let me read the sign._ She scanned down the line of stop names for the word “Louvre”. Just as she found it—direction Château de Vincennes—Robespierre spoke.

“Si vous avez du mal à lire le panneau, je pourrais peut-etre vous aider, bien que je n’aie pas mes lunettes, si vous me diriez ce que vous cherchez.” _If you are struggling to read the sign, I could help, although I do not have my glasses, if you would tell me what you are looking for._

“Oh, je ne voudrais pas vous déranger, Monsieur,” Alexis said. “Vous devez mettre votre intelligence supérieure à profit en trouvant les nouveaux moyens de m’insulter. Après tout, vous avez seulement adressé mon sexe, mon métier, et mon éducation. C’est par là.” _Oh, I would not wish to trouble you, Monsieur. You should put your superior intellect to better use by finding new ways to insult me. After all, you have only addressed my gender, my occupation, and my education. It’s this way._

She turned on her heel and marched down the stairs to the Ligne 1 platform, leaving a dumbfounded Robespierre to gape and then hurry to catch up.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexis and Robespierre reach the Louvre.

Alexis and Robespierre sat across from each other on the train in oppressive silence as stop after stop passed by. They both stood as the train came to a stop before the sign: PALAIS ROYAL MUSÉE DU LOUVRE. They exited the train like strangers heading to different destinations but, after stepping onto the platform, Robespierre was forced to follow Alexis to the correct exit.

They emerged from the métro to a light flurry of snow. Alexis sighed and pulled her coat more tightly around her.

They followed the street to the nearest crosswalk. Turning to cross, they could see one of the walls of the Louvre. They crossed the street and then Robespierre ground to a halt. He grabbed the sleeve of Alexis’s coat to keep her from going on without him.

“Quoi?” she snapped, turning to face him. _What?_ Then her expression softened.

Robespierre stared at the wall, lips slightly parted. He closed his mouth and swallowed hard. “Je vous crois,” he said. “Je crois que c’est le Louvre et que nous sommes à Paris. Je crois que c’est le vingt et unième siècle. Je voudrais, je voudrais retourner maintenant à l’appartement.” _I believe you._ _I believe that this is the Louvre and that we are in Paris. I believe that this is the twenty-first century. I would like, I would like to go back to the apartment now._ He turned around.

“Attendez,” Alexis said. “Vous n’êtes même pas entré.” _Wait. You haven’t even gone inside._

“Je n’en ai pas besoin,” Robespierre replied. “Je le connais.” _I do not need to. I know it._

“Mais comment? Vous n’avez pas vu qu’une petite pièce du mur.” _But how? All you’ve seen is a small piece of the wall._

“J’chais pas!” Robespierre shouted then, surprised by his own volume, said, “Je ne sais pas. Ça devrait être impossible. Tout ce qu’il y a autour a changé et je n’y ai jamais vraiment fait attention avant, mais je le connais.” _I don’t know! I do not know. It should be impossible. Everything around it has changed and I never paid it much attention before, but I know it._

“D’accord,” Alexis said, “mais êtes-vous certain que vous voulez immédiatement retourner? Vous tremblez. Asseyons-nous quelque part où il ne fait pas aussi froid pour un moment. Non?” _All right, but are you certain you want to go back immediately? You’re shaking. Let’s sit down somewhere out of the cold for a little bit. No?_

Robespierre was silent as he mulled over the suggestion, then he nodded slowly but resolutely. Alexis held out her hand, which he refused to take, before leading him around the corner to a small café. She said bonjour to the server and then selected a table in a warm, dark corner of the establishment. The server followed them to their table. Once they were seated, Alexis ordered, “Deux cafés, s’il vous plait,” before Robespierre had time to do more than look at the man. _Two coffees, please._

“C’est mieux, non?” Alexis said. _This is better, no?_

Robespierre looked around the otherwise empty café and nodded.

“Heureusement, c’est hiver,” Alexis commented. “Si c’était l’été, ce café serait rempli de touristes.” _Thankfully it’s winter. If it were summer, this café would be full of tourists._ She looked up at the server, who had returned with the coffees. “N’est-ce pas?” _Right?_

“Oui, madame,” the server said and then retired once more. _Yes, madame._

“Touristes?” Robespierre asked. _Tourists?_

“Des étrangers qui visitent des autres pays pour voir les monuments et musées.” _Foreigners who visit other countries to see the monuments and museums._

“Ah, oui. Je comprends. Je n’avais jamais entendu ce mot. Touristes.” _Ah, yes. I understand. I had never heard that word. Tourists._

“De toute façon, le fait est que ce café est assez vide. Vous pouvez pleurer si vous voulez.” _Anyway, the point is that the place is fairly empty. You can cry if you want to._

Robespierre sneered at the idea. “Comment devez-vous me voir que vous m’accuse d’être un lâche, de délibérément chercher de vous insulter, et puis m’invitez pleurer comme une femme?” _How must you see me that you accuse me of being a coward, of purposefully seeking to insult you, and then invite me to weep like a woman?_

“Alors, ne pleurez pas,” Alexis said. “J’ai seulement pensé que je signalerais qu’il n’y a pas d’étrangers pour vous juger ici. Je ne le ferais certainement pas. Après tout, je voudrais penser au moins un peu de pleurer serait une réaction naturelle la découverte que tous ceux que vous n’avez jamais connu sont morts depuis plus ou moins deux cents ans.” _Don’t cry, then. I just thought I’d point out that there aren’t any outsiders to judge you here. I certainly won’t. After all, I’d think that at least a little crying would be a natural reaction to the discovery that everyone you have ever known has been dead for more or less two hundred years._

“Naturelle? Peut-être de vos normes,” Robespierre answered. _Natural? Perhaps by your standards._

Alexis opened her mouth to respond, then closed it and sat silently for several moments. She sighed. “J’admettre votre point de vue,” she said. “Nous resterons ici jusque vous n’avez plus l’air de vous évanouir. Puis nous pouvons retourner à l’appartement.” _I concede your point. We will stay here until you no longer look like you are going to faint. Then we can go back to the apartment._ She took a sip of her coffee.

“D’accord,” Robespierre said. _Agreed._ He followed suit and sipped his coffee. They both looked around the café and avoided eye contact with each other.

“Pensez-vous que je resterai ici pour toujours?” Robespierre asked after several moments of restless silence. _Do you think that I will remain here forever?_

“Non,” Alexis answered without hesitation.

“Non?”

“Je crois que, avant la fin de la semaine, vous direz cette histoire comme c’était un rêve bizarre. L’ordre naturelle ne vous permettra pas rester plus que ça. Ça peut paraitre comme un petit homme peu important ne pouvait pas avoir un grand effet sur l’histoire mais chaque changement minuscule fait de votre absence pourrait avoir un très grand effet.” _I believe that, before the week is out, you will be telling this story like it was a bizarre dream. The natural order won’t allow you to stay longer than that. It might seem like one small, unimportant man could not have much effect on history but every tiny change made by your absence could have a very large effect._

“Je suis sûr que votre mari admire votre talent particulier d’attaquer l’orgueil d’un homme,” Robespierre noted sourly. _I am sure that your husband appreciates your particular talent for attacking a man’s pride._

“Je ne suis pas mariée,” Alexis replied. _I am not married._

“Je le crois.” _I believe it._

“Je pourrais vous laisser ici, vous savez,” Alexis said. “Je pourrais vous lasser ici sans argent, sans carte de métro, sans aucune idée comment retourner à l’appartement.” _I could leave you here, you know. I could leave you here with no money, no métro pass, and no idea who to return to the apartment._

“Vous me menacez.” _You are threatening me._

“Oui, exactement.” _I am, indeed._

“Il ne faut pas faire des menaces que vous n’avez pas d’intention d’effectuer,” Robespierre said. _You should not make threats that you do not intend to carry out._

“Vous ne croyez pas que je vous laisserais?” _You don’t believe that I would leave you?_ Alexis smirked. “N’hésitez pas de vérifier votre conviction.” _Please feel free to test your conviction._ She leaned back and waved her arm to get the server’s attention. “L’addition, s’il vous plait.” _The bill, please._ She downed the last of her coffee as he approached.

The server placed the bill on the table and walked away. Alexis made a show of reaching into her purse and pulling out her wallet. She selected a five-euro bill and a two-euro coin and placed the on the table.

“Vous êtes une femme bizarre,” Robespierre said as Alexis returned her wallet to her purse. _You are a strange woman._

“Je ne voudrais pas être normale,” Alexis replied and stood to leave. _I’d hate to be normal._

Robespierre hesitated, quaffed the rest of his coffee, and followed suit, not willing to actually be left alone in a city he no longer knew.


End file.
